


Wrong Headline

by MissTantabis



Series: Jekyll and Hyde: That ship as sailed, my darling. [5]
Category: Jekyll and Hyde (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Jealousy, Love Triangles, Multi, Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 23:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7952800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTantabis/pseuds/MissTantabis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prothero clearly has not had this in mind. When Tenebrae asked him for refuge in his building, he had not expected them to carry a rotting corpse in his office! He can only hope that he can persuade Fedora to do something about it. With more or less dire consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong Headline

The smell of death filled his nostrils as he entered the room. Prothero gagged. He could not help it. His brows furrowed in disdain, disgust and contempt as he laid eyes on the source of this scent. In one of his private rooms in the Headquarters of the  _ Daily Truth _ stood between fancy furniture in brown, gold and red a large tube.

In this tube laid a large man with black hairs, his eyes soaken in his sockets, his mustache like a thine line against his upper lips. His arms laid on the tube's edges. He was not moving. He was dead in fact. Slowly rotting away. His flesh stank and had patches on it, his chest had sunken in, his face was haggard.

Before the man stood a Russian woman with fair skin, black brown curls and dark, smoldering eyes. She wore a green dress with a dark purple fur scarf over arms and shoulders. A small, velvet hat balanced perfectly on her hair. She was slowly pouring a blood red, watery liquid into the tube.

Prothero slowly crossed his arms. He was a sore businessman and his appearance showed that: Hagger, slender, yet small with greyish hair, cruel steel eyes and a proper suit. He angrily approached the woman and said: “When you asked me for refuge, I did not expected this! How long do you intend to stay in here, Fedora? The smell is dreadful already. Besides didn't you say he was kind off an undead man? Then why is he dead now?!”

“Undead does not equal invulnerable”, responded Fedora and gave Prothero a short gaze, before she turned back to Captain Dance, who laid motionless in his tube, the liquid squishing around him like a river, “And Captain Dance is not dead. He cannot die. However right now he is in a state where his body won't be able to function.”

Pointing with her long, fair hand at the chest which had a large gap in it that showed a rethorn heart. “See that wound?”, whispered Fedora, “Dance has to regenerate. Something like this is exhausting and takes time.” “Time, you obviously do not seem to have”, responded Prothero and threw his arms in the air, “Tenebrae is getting impatient. Keres will want you to get back on track as soon as possible!”

Fedora crossed her arms. Prothero had to admit: She had an exotic flair to herself and was really pretty. A lovely woman, who wasted herself on a dead man. He could not understand it. “I am doing everything in my power I can to help in his regeneration process”, Fedora explained. She poured the liquid once more over Dance. “This serum is disinfectant. It makes sure that the wound heals faster and gives him little complication.” Her voice sounded kind and tender when she said that.

“Is there no way to quicken the process?”, asked Prothero. He hated the idea of having to be stuck with a rotting corpse in the same house. It would be hard to hide the smell from anyone whom he was negotiating with. Why could she not just get rid of Dance? She was a talented woman after all. She did not need to do this. She did not need Dance. She could have Prothero instead.

“There is”, admitted Fedora, “If we replace his old, damaged organs with fresh ones, he will awake sooner.” “Well”, demanded Prothero, “Then go and let Silas and his men kill a couple of people to get the organs.” Fedora rolled her eyes in annoyance. “You think this is so easy”, she scolded him, “Could you remove a heart from a fresh kill and keep it intact long enough to replace his old heart? No, you don't.”

Fedora smiled and it was cunning, cruel and malicious smile. “Luckily I have a better idea.” Her whisper dropped of venom. Prothero furrowed his brows and tried his best to hide his nervousity. He always walked on thine ice when he dealt with Tenebrae.

“Fedora”, said Prothero cautiously, “I do not like the look on your face.” Fedora reached into a transport box and pulled out a glass. It contained a weird insect like creature. A bug with six long legs, dark brown wings and a large spike. Prothero gulped. Army of Monsters. They proved it more then once. Just what was he getting himself into?

“Come here, pretty one.” Fedora's voice almost sounded tenderly and kind. She opened the glass and placed a hand in it. Hissing and snarling, the bug climbed up her fingers and she pulled it out. Eying it with a fascination, that scared Prothero, she answered the question that had been on his mind: What was that thing?

“It is a Reaper Bug”, explained Fedora, “They have the ability to control human minds and if they have a host, they can transplant organs from one body to the other.” She looked at Dance in the tube. “It could bring me what I need.” Prothero shivered. “I will regret asking this”, he stammered, “But how are they suppose to do this?”

Fedora's eyes flashed and a bloodthirsty grin laid on her lips as she explained: “They lay eggs in a host, Prothero, which they then control. Once they have liquified their victim's organs they move on to their next host.”

Prothero watched her opening the window. “Wait!”, he called, “You will cause a mass murder if you let that thing out.” Fedora responded: “So what? Don't you thrive for a good story?” Stretching her arm, she gave the Reaper Bug a soft push. It spread its wings and flew away.

Turning around, Fedora smiled at Dance in the tube. “You will wake sooner then they realize.” Her adoration made Prothero gagg. Crossing his arms, his face an expression of bitterness, he muffled something unfriendly as he thought:  _ I deeply detest this. _

 


End file.
